


Intimate Intimidation

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, morally ambiguous snape, opportunistic snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry could have sworn that the gift theme for the MLE Christmas Party was “Intimate Me.” An odd theme, but weren’t they odd every year? And if you’re going to mess up the theme, it stands to reason that the recipient of your messed-up gift would be Severus Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimate Intimidation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and published on LJ/IJ/DW as part of the 2015 Secret Snarry Exchange to this prompt: It's the office's annual Christmas party and Harry decides that he will not make a fool of himself this time. Unfortunately things don't go his way.. 
> 
> The prompter didn’t want crack, and wanted a happy ending and a balance of angst and fluff. Well, happy endings abound, anyway. Thank you, badgerlady, for the speedy beta. Happy holidays!

In hindsight, he should have read the gift-exchange poster more carefully.

It was ridiculous, really, the whole idea of the entire department buying silly gifts and exchanging them at the department Christmas party. One of these days, he wanted to be on the committee that chose the yearly theme – he reckoned there must be a lot of drinking involved. Last year had been fairly staid – silly hats. The year before they’d come up with “Color Me Purple.” And the year before that – Harry’s first year at the MLE – the gift exchange theme had been “Some Like it Hot.”

And while Harry had managed to bring acceptable presents each year, thanks, in part, to the brilliance and creativity of his friends Hermione and Ginny, he’d had to go it alone this year, as Ginny was off with the Harpies and Hermione was eight months pregnant and not at all in the mood to save his arse again with an all-day shopping expedition.

Not only was he going to nail the gift this year, he was going to remain sober the entire evening, leave at a respectable time, and definitely not make a fool out of himself. Not like the year before – when he’d not realized the punch was spiked. It had been so warm in the room and he was sweating so profusely in his Weasley Christmas sweater that, by the time he passed out on the buffet table, he’d ingested a half gallon of the stuff.

The gift this year had presented a bit of a challenge. In the end, he’d gone shopping in Muggle London – in Soho – to find it. As he perused the offerings in the shop, concentrating on the holiday-themed intimate apparel, he wondered which of his colleagues had decided that “Intimate Me” would be an entertaining Christmas gift theme. He’d considered a green leather harness with white fur trim and jingle bells. Unfortunately, it cost nearly three times their spending limit, though he doubted anyone would bother to do the currency conversion if he left the Muggle price tag on.

No, he thought, as he picked up the gaily wrapped package and prepared to Apparate to the Ministry, he was _not_ going to make a fool of himself this year. He had a sobriety potion in his pocket, an appropriate gift to go along with the ludicrous theme, and the firm resolve to drink nothing but water. And he’d be avoiding the dance floor altogether, where, two years ago, he’d been photographed dancing extremely intimately with a gorgeous man twice his age who turned out to be married to the Minister’s niece.

Not good. Not good at all.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had moved their Christmas party to the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic this year, and the party was already underway when Harry stepped off the Apparition platform.

Padma Patil was working the gift table, and she beckoned Harry over. He handed his gift to her and she tagged it with a number, then checked his name off a list and added his gift number behind his name. “Should be a fun one this year,” she said. “And Kingsley told me to tell you to keep your arse off the buffet table.”

“And the dance floor,” added Cho Chang, who had Apparated in right behind Harry. She handed her gift to Padma, then leaned in to kiss Harry on the cheek. “And keep your hands off my date,” she whispered. “I’m told he’s straight but apparently even straight men can’t resist you, Harry.”

He rolled his eyes, but behaved like a gentleman when introduced to Cho’s date, and managed to shake his hand without accidentally touching any other body parts. The three wandered off together to the bar, where Harry ordered a tonic water, then meandered over to sit with a group of his fellow Aurors at a table near the buffet.

“Well look at who the cat dragged in,” said Rodney Silbey, one of the new recruits, a few minutes later. He nodded toward the Apparition platform, where a scowling Severus Snape was stepping off onto the Atrium floor. 

“Snape,” said Marisol Livingston, sounding a bit awed. “I heard they’d given him O’Henry’s job. Rumour mill must actually be right for a change.”

Harry watched as Snape strode directly to the gift table and handed Padma a black gift bag with silver and gold ribbon tied to the handles. “What happened to O’Henry?” he asked, eyes still on Snape, who glanced quickly around the Atrium then headed for the bar where Kingsley, head of the MLE, was standing with a couple senior Aurors. 

“I heard he got drunk and passed out on the buffet table,” said Seamus Finnigan.

The group laughed, and Harry shook his head. “Ha bloody ha,” Harry said. “Now go on – really. What’s up with O’Henry? I could have sworn he did the background work for a case I worked on last week.”

“Promoted out of here,” Marisol answered with a sigh. “Into the Department of Mysteries.” 

“Where did Snape come from?” Harry asked. He was still watching his old professor, who stood with his back to the bar beside Kingsley, a glass in his hand. He was scanning the crowd, eyes narrowed, looking surly and suspicious.

“Private potions practice,” answered Marisol. “I heard they slipped him into O’Henry’s position so they didn’t have to go through the red tape of creating a new one. They plan on using Snape to make all of our potions now instead of contracting them out.”

Well, that at least made sense. The last batch of Polyjuice they’d procured had been a nightmare, leaving Aurors with residual borrowed features for hours after the potion had worn off. Harry had been one of the least fortunate, sporting a very generous set of breasts for an entire day after the rest of the woman he’d been impersonating had faded away. And that had been quite inconvenient, as it happened on pub night, when he’d really have liked to chat up the new bartender.

Seamus whistled softly. “Snape’s going to be making our potions, then? Sheesh. Better stay on his good side, then.”

Harry lost track of the conversation as he relaxed in his chair, eyes on Snape as he stood and sipped his drink at the bar. Snape was clearly not quite comfortable here, very likely in attendance only as a matter of protocol. His eyes darted around the room, and his face seemed carefully neutral. But inevitably, Snape’s intense gaze caught his own. Snape stared at him for a long moment, then the corner of his mouth listed in what could very possibly be called a sneer.

Wait. 

Harry squinted.

No. Not a _sneer_. 

A _leer_.

And just like that, he knew. Harry _knew_. Snape – Snape was _gay_. Queer. Just like…just like Harry himself.

His mouth dropped open. He snapped it closed as soon as he realized it, and wet his suddenly dry lips.

How the hell had he not seen it before? 

He looked over at Marisol and smiled as the others laughed at something Seamus had said. Well of course he hadn’t seen it before – how the hell would he have noticed at Hogwarts? And when was the last time he’d seen Snape, anyway? At their Order of Merlin ceremony three years ago? And Snape had still had that huge bandage around his neck then, and had left right after the ceremony, even before the reception.

“So – what else do you know about him?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

His friends weren’t fooled.

“About Snape? Snape?” Seamus responded. He grinned. “Oh, you know. The usual. Wife, two kids, spends summers in Majorca. Upstanding pillar of the community, really. Volunteers at St. Mungo’s children’s ward – puts on a clown wig and does magic tricks.”

More laughter, and Harry joined in.

“So – gay?” he dared, lowering his voice.

“Ewww – Harry!” Seamus protested. “What is happening to your taste level? You can do better – really.”

“Except he’s got to be – well, _well-endowed_ ,” Rodney commented, whispering the last bit. He was a polite and proper kind of bloke, but one who was trying to fit in better with his rather raucous work mates.

Seamus pounced on it. “Oh? And how would _you_ know this?” he asked while Harry turned his head and stared at Rodney, intrigued with the direction of the conversation.

“His nose! Look at that thing! And everyone knows….”

Harry choked on his drink, and Seamus thumped him on the back. “Like what you’re seeing, eh, Harry?” he asked.

As the evening progressed, Harry barely succeeded in keeping his eyes off of Snape, but failed utterly at keeping his mind off of him. Fortunately, thinking of Snape’s … ah … _nose_ gave him something to do while he made it through the buffet without humiliating himself, kept his sorry arse far away from the dance floor, and drank nothing but club soda. Finally, at ten o’clock, Kingsley’s voice echoed throughout the room, announcing the gift exchange. Excellent! He could leave as soon as the gift exchange was over. The table with the gifts was levitated over to the dance floor and everyone gathered around as Padma and her team prepared to begin.

“Alright, everyone, you know the drill.” Padma was standing on a chair and had cast a Sonorous to make herself heard. “Hogwarts has once again loaned us the Sorting Hat to look inside each of these gifts and determine an appropriate recipient.”

Cheers and laughs rang out, and a very proper and worried looking Percy Weasley approached the floor. He was holding a small wooden casket, which seemed to be bouncing in his hands. He placed the box in the middle of the gift table and turned the latch, then removed what appeared to be a struggling Sorting Hat, and passed it off to Padma with some difficulty.

“Professor McGonagall would like it returned without the beer smell this year,” he instructed primly. He looked around the room, eyes settling on Harry. “And she says to keep it away from Potter.”

The crowd laughed and Harry sighed. He was _never_ going to live down the past couple of office Christmas parties. There really was no use to continue on his best behavior.

Padma held the Sorting Hat firmly in two hands and addressed the crowd. “As you all know, this year’s theme was ‘Intimidate Me.’ You were to bring something that would make your recipient appear intimidating. Something to scare the baddies and help our Aurors keep up that menacing demeanor.” 

As Harry’s mouth dropped open, she tossed the hat high into the air over the table. It landed on a tall green gift bag.

“Hector Cromwell, this gift’s for you. Your face is unassuming, and your personality is too!” sang out the hat.

Hector, an older chap with a pleasant round face, blushed profusely. He came forward to accept the gift and pulled off the tag. “From Cho Chang,” he read, and, while everyone watched, pulled out a Mad Eye Moody face mask, complete with simulated magical eye.

Harry was the only one not laughing.

Intimi _date?_ No. This couldn’t be happening – not again. 

“Seamus Finnigan, come claim your prize. Your scrawny chest could use some size.”

“Very funny,” muttered Seamus as he accepted a large flat box from Padma and read the tag. “From Theodora Von Grunt,” he read, winking at Theodora, who glared back at him. Everyone knew that Seamus had a crush on her. He opened the box to reveal a molded foam chest with bulging pectoral muscles, a Muggle costume accessory worn under the shirt to give the appearance of a well-toned and muscled body.

Harry was beginning to panic. He had to get out of here before the hat got to his gift. The evening had been going so well – why couldn’t he have finally got through an office Christmas party without humiliating himself? He wasn’t supposed to get an intimate gift at all, but his gift was up there with several dozen others, just waiting to humiliate him when the recipient pulled out …

“Ahhh….what have we here? What have we here?”

Harry’s eyes opened wide when he saw the hat perched on what very much looked like the gift he’d brought, artfully gift-wrapped by the nice gentleman at the Muggle shop in Soho. 

“Tiny candy cane willies on the gift wrap? Well, well, well. I’d say Mr. Harry Potter has a very specific recipient in mind.”

The room had become very quiet. Half the room was craning to get a look at the gift with the candy cane penis gift wrap while the other half turned to stare at Harry. 

Harry was beginning to turn green. Candy cane _cocks_? He hadn’t paid any attention to the wrapping paper – he’d just been happy the gift wrapping had been free the day he’d purchased the…the…

Oh fuck.

“Severus Snape, this one’s for you. And you can claim the gifter, too.”

An eerie silence fell as Snape, looking absolutely in charge of the situation, walked purposefully to the table and held out his hands. Padma, who was examining the wrapping paper with an odd sort of amused horror on her face, looked pointedly at Harry as she handed the package to Snape.

Harry, meanwhile, tried to make his escape.

“I thought it said ‘Intimate,’” he was mumbling to anyone who would listen as he pushed through several rows of people. “ _In_ timate, not In _tim_ idate!”

“Potter!”

Snape’s voice cut through the air and nearly cut the legs out from under Harry. 

“He’s trying to escape!” shouted Seamus.

“Potter – get your arse over here and help me open this package,” Snape commanded. “I would hate to tear the lovely giftwrap.”

“Does it really have candy cane willies?” Harry heard someone ask as he moved reluctantly toward the front of the crowd, red-faced and already humiliated, even though Snape hadn’t even opened the gift yet.

As it turned out, Snape decided not to wait for Harry’s help and handily ripped the paper off the box, then lifted the lid and pulled out a pair of festive silk boxers.

Snape’s face was carefully composed as he turned them around and held them up for the crowd. _Do Not Open Until Christmas_ was printed in glittery silver letters across the fly. The crowd roared and clapped, obviously delighted.

“Now _that’s_ intimidating!” laughed Seamus.

“I thought it said _In_ timate,” Harry said, red-faced.

Snape was looking at him speculatively. He raised an eyebrow as he unceremoniously dropped the pants onto the table and reached into the package for a second pair. The crowd hooted and cheered.

“Spank me, I’ve been naughty,” he deadpanned, reading the writing on the seat of the pants.

“Oh, Harry. You _didn’t_!” lamented Cho, who was standing beside him, shaking her head. “You really ought not to shop by yourself, you know.”

“And lucky me – _three pair_.” Snape held the second pair gingerly by the waistband and let it drop. It wafted to the floor and landed atop Harry’s boots. 

Could this possibly get any worse?

It could.

Snape was now holding up the _piéce de la resistance,_ the boxers with the candy cane-shaped knit ‘warming’ tube attached to the fly. _Eat Me_ was emblazoned in large letters across the hip.

Snape had an odd look on his face. Perhaps he was amused? Harry dared an embarrassed smile for his friends, who were laughing uproariously. Someone clapped him on the back.

“Only you, Potter. Only you.”

“Well, that certainly was _enlightening_ ,” Snape drawled. He waved his hand at Harry’s shoes and the pants flew back to him. He carefully placed them in the box with the other two pair, replaced the decorative lid (and yes, Harry realized, those _were_ candy cane penises on the paper), and, box under his arm, made his way out of the crowd.

By way of Harry.

His friends quickly moved away. Apparently, their long-standing fear of Professor Severus Snape remained intact.

“My, my, my,” Snape said, his mouth close to Harry’s ear. No. not _said_. More like _purred_. Harry tried to suppress the shudder that ran through him. “Were you hoping I would model these for you, Mr. Potter? Well – I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my _candy cane_ couldn’t possibly fit in these. Could you exchange them for an extra large?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He hoped is tongue wasn’t lolling out.

As Padma got the Sorting Hat started on the next gift, Snape leaned in even closer to Harry. “Work Lab Three, thirty minutes. Do try to be on time, Potter,” he hissed. 

He melted away before Harry could say a word, leaving him with his mouth slightly ajar, staring at Snape’s retreating back.

Thirty minutes was enough time to work himself into a panic. It was also enough time to receive his own gift in the exchange – no surprise at all that it came wrapped in a black bag with a silver and gold ribbon. The surprise was the gift itself – a floor-length black cape, the type sometimes worn over robes – and so reminiscent of the Hogwarts-era Snape that Harry wasn’t the only one whose immediate reaction was to sit up straighter and try to look invisible.

And while Harry had plenty of time – and opportunity – to escape the Ministry and return to the safety of his flat, the thought never even entered his mind. Snape wanted him in Work Lab Three, and by Merlin, he’d be there, and on time, too. He managed to escape the chaos of the Atrium and arrive at the third of the identical work labs reserved for MLE use with two minutes to spare. The door was closed and the corridor deserted when he arrived. The Christmas decoration frenzy hadn’t reached the bowels of the building yet, and the corridor was as grey and lifeless now as it was the rest of the year. He stood in front of the door for a long while, and had almost talked himself into opening it when it swung open suddenly and a strong arm grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room in complete darkness. He jerked quickly away, freeing himself from the hand on his wrist, and slipped his wand from its holster into his hand.

“Lumos!”

He nearly dropped his wand as its glow illuminated the room. 

Snape – Severus Snape – stood only a few feet in front of him, casually leaning back on a lab table, and wearing nothing but the candy cane boxers. Snape had lied. He _did_ fit into them. Barely. 

As Harry stared, wand quaking in his hand, Snape leaned forward and snatched the wand from his hand. The light didn’t falter, and he pointed it at the outrageous pants, running the tip over the words emblazoned on the silky fabric.

_Eat me._

“Is this a promise, or a threat?” he asked, voice low. And while Harry stood frozen before him, not even protesting the loss of his wand, Snape scooted back onto the work table and spread his legs. His cock, weighty and substantial, stretched the red and white knit fabric nearly to its limit. Harry could practically see the veins.

_Fuck a doodle doo._

He fell onto his knees so quickly he bruised his kneecaps. Snape took hold of his head with one long-fingered hand and pressed it unceremoniously over his sheathed cock, forcing Harry to mouth it through the festive fabric.

Merlin’s teeth, Snape’s cock was huge. Hard as nails, rising expectantly from between wiry legs, hardly supported at all by the scrawny arse and almost-not-there buttocks. It was a monstrosity, out of place on his body, as demanding and rude as his acerbic personality.

Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

Even through the unpleasant weave of the soft yarn that contained it, Harry could taste Snape’s foul temper and bitter retorts. He clumsily pulled at the waist band of the boxers until Snape laughed and raised his arse off the table. 

Harry pulled until Snape’s cock popped out of the candy cane tube. He dropped the boxers, not bothering to pull them the rest of the way off, and dove down on the cock that was so bloody perfect he didn’t even spare a thought to wonder how he could possibly fit it in his mouth.

He didn’t care. He opened wider until the thing was choking him, shoving the head against the back of his throat as he gripped the base, alternately licking, sucking, fisting it. His own cock was harder than it had ever been, and he rutted against the edge of the table for some relief as Snape’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling at the roots until his eyes watered. The hand on Snape’s cock slipped down to brush against heavy bollocks, and Snape moaned, then surprised the hell out of Harry by pulling his head up and off his cock and pressing his mouth insistently down onto his bollocks.

It wasn’t something Harry had ever done before – despite his exuberance, he had precious little experience at fellatio. But he was certainly game. He moved one hand back to fist the turgid cock as he sucked a testicle into his mouth and laved it with his tongue. The thing seemed as big as a lime, but silky smooth, as if Snape - _Severus fucking Snape!_ – shaved his bollocks. Harry applied pressure, sucking until Snape’s fingers dug into his scalp, then releasing the one in his mouth and diving in for the other.

“Who knew?” Snape groaned, pulling Harry off and thrusting his cock forward until Harry swallowed it again. “Who knew that Harry bloody Potter was born to kill dark wizards _and_ give magnificent head?”

And with that, as Harry’s eyes watered, he pushed himself forward, took a firm grip on Harry’s head with both hands, and began fucking his face. 

Five thrusts, six, and Harry’s head was swimming. Seven, eight and he gave in to the motion, the pressure, feeling every ridge of that unbelievable cock as it stretched his mouth and kissed the back of his throat. Nine and Snape was grunting.

Ten and he was shouting, spilling down Harry’s throat, pulsing into his mouth, and Harry was swallowing, swallowing, even as he rutted against the table, his own orgasm just beyond his reach.

Snape didn’t make him wait. 

He was suddenly standing, bending Harry over the table, yanking his trousers down with one hand. They ripped, but Harry didn’t care. Snape twitched his wand, and oil was flowing down Harry’s crease. Snape’s finger followed, running down twice before pushing directly into him, just to the first knuckle, then further, deeper, while his other hand reached around him and took hold of his cock and squeezed.

“This doesn’t stop here,” Snape hissed as he pressed his finger in deeper, crooking it, pumping it in and out in time with the hand moving languidly on Harry’s cock. “There are many more things I’d like to do to you, many more rooms here I’d like to explore.” His finger suddenly stilled and his hand fell away from Harry’s cock. He bent down and bit lightly into Harry’s neck as Harry writhed beneath him. “Promise me, Potter. Promise me you’ll come back for more.”

At that moment, Harry would have promised him his first-born child and both of his kidneys.

“Yes!” he hissed. “Just finish this – please – finish this….”

“Gladly,” answered Snape, resuming the motion of his hands until Harry was bucking and coming, spilling on the lab table, then lying boneless atop it while Snape’s finger continued to explore within him.

Harry turned his head to the side slowly, too exhausted to move another muscle. He was still panting, coming down off what was arguably the best orgasm of his life, likely the best he’d ever have.

His eyes widened in shock.

Snape was _hard._ His cock had filled again and was jutting out in front of him. He was covering it with the lube he’d conjured and, when it was totally slick, he held up two glistening fingers, smiled at Harry with that odd half smile, then, while Harry’s eyes widened, he reached forward and pressed both fingers slowly into Harry.

Oh god oh god oh god. _This_ he hadn’t expected.

The two fingers slid in easily enough in his relaxed, post-orgasmic state, something Snape had certainly anticipated. Two fingers soon became three, and the three together, wide and long and ridged with bony knuckles, worked in and out of him until he was so boneless that he would have pooled onto the floor had Snape not been supporting him with those glorious fingers up his arse.

“Hold on tight, Potter.” It sounded more like a promise than a threat.

Harry scrambled forward and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the table just in time to receive the buggering of his life. 

Snape the sex god? he thought groggily as he lay panting on the table ten minutes later, Snape’s body weighing heavily atop his own. He groaned as Snape pushed himself up and off of him, taking the opportunity to smack his bum as he crawled off the table.

“Good news, Potter,” he said as he pulled on his trousers. “Shacklebolt has authorized me to take on an assistant. You’ve got the job.” 

“But I didn’t apply…. Oh.”

Harry pushed himself up on his hands and knees and flopped over onto his back. Snape was buttoning up his robes. He picked up the discarded candy cane boxers and tossed them on a chair, then leaned against the table and pulled his socks on as Harry watched, fascinated, as those thin, long toes disappeared into the black wool.

“So – this was my interview?” Harry asked.

Snape toed on his boots. “Let’s call it your audition,” he said. He picked something off the chair and tossed it to Harry.

Harry snatched his wand out of the air, grinning. He had a very good feeling about this new position.

They eyed each other a long moment, and Harry’s grin widened, and the corner of Snape’s mouth turned up into that crooked smile Harry was already beginning to love.

“You have a magnificent cock,” Harry blurted.

“And you, Mr. Potter, have a delectable arse. The Sorting Hat clearly knew what I needed.”

“Probably because it saw you wanking in your office so often.”

“Careful, Mr. Potter, or I might make you play out one of those wank fantasies.”

“Promise?”

They locked eyes, then Snape smirked, pointed his wand at Harry’s ripped trousers and uttered a quick Reparo, then tossed the garment to Harry.

“I’ve changed my mind. You’re going home with me.”

They left the room side by side some minutes later, the candy cane boxers forgotten on the chair. They’d be found on Monday, of course, and tacked to the bulletin board outside Kingsley’s office, where Snape would remove them, and pocket them, and keep them in his robe pocket all of that day, a pleased smile on his usually surly face. He looked, indeed, like the cat that got the canary.

_Fin_


End file.
